


shut up (and let me hold your hand)

by nishinoya_is_my_sexuality



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Flirting, Confessions, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-24 11:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30071262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishinoya_is_my_sexuality/pseuds/nishinoya_is_my_sexuality
Summary: There are 717 different things about Miya Atsumu that are annoying. Sakusa realizes he’s attracted to every single one of them.There are now 718 different things about Miya Atsumu that are annoying.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 87





	shut up (and let me hold your hand)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to the one and only Sakusa Kiyoomi!! °˖✧ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ 
> 
> Similar to the reason why I first wrote my other iwaoi fanfic, a few days ago I thought, "Alright. I'm currently in the middle of writing a fanfic and I have five assignments due the next day. H o w e v e r, I'm bored. Why not write a new fanfic?"
> 
> So here we are. Enjoy, because I just procrastinated at life to write this.
> 
> (This is also an attempt to make up for the very angst-driven sakuatsu fanfic I posted yesterday)

_ #109. Atsumu shrieks and climbs onto the nearest person whenever a fly even briefly touches his skin. _

_ #110. Atsumu somehow manages to always put on his uniform inside-out before realizing his mistake three seconds later. _

_ #111. Atsumu is obsessed with scaring his neighbor’s cat.  _

Sakusa Kiyoomi doesn’t know when it started.

Perhaps it was when the MSBY Black Jackals went out for a group dinner at the local tempura restaurant, where Atsumu and Bokuto had challenged each other to “the most amount of shrimp inhaled in one go”. Sakusa had tried to dissolve into a fit of Lysol soap bubbles in his seat from the farthest corner of the room as the two idiots sloppily slurped down the food at a very unhealthy rate. However, it was technically a required team celebration and therefore Sakusa was, unfortunately, required to stay a solidified human being.

_ #232. Atsumu’s tongue is disgustingly long. _

_ #233. Atsumu has no sense of sanity. _

Or maybe it was when Atsumu had knocked down his door at four a.m. in the morning and coerced Sakusa to go running with him because the latter needed to “stop sulkin’ around inside and go touch some grass!” They spent more than fifteen minutes bickering back and forth on the sheer hour of time that gradually shifted to Sakusa threatening to drown Atsumu in a gallon of black coffee to Atsumu complaining about Sakusa’s lack of taste in coffee. Sakusa ended up giving in just to make Atsumu shut up.

_ #528. Atsumu is a morning person only when it comes to volleyball and keeping up with his physical appearance.  _

Regardless, Sakusa’s mental List of All the Annoying Things About Miya Atsumu seems to never stop growing. 

“Shouyou!” Atsumu yells, glancing behind him as a blur of orange suddenly whizzes past the court and shoots straight up in the air next to the net. He sets the volleyball up, right as Hinata slams it straight down.

“Yes!” Hinata cheers and jumps up in excitement, his arms outstretched. He runs up to Atsumu, who is grinning as well, and they exchange their so-called “secret handshake”, consisting of a fistbump, two spins, a high five with both hands, and Atsumu ruffling Hinata’s spiky, orange hair. 

Sakusa, who is behind standing on the sidelines, rolls his eyes. Practice is over, and for the past dozens of times, he seems to find himself staying behind to watch his teammates practice more. Usually, it’s just Hinata practicing his spikes with the help of Atsumu, and Bokuto standing around, occasionally stepping in and teaching Hinata how to slam the ball down even harder. Something about observing them, which may or may not include a hideously orange-yellow-haired setter, is mildly entertaining. It’s only lately, Sakusa notices, that Hinata and Atsumu have been exchanging their handshake. Nevertheless, he’s sure that Atsumu only uses that handshake as an excuse to touch Hinata’s hair. 

Speaking of the idiot, Atsumu seems to notice Sakusa standing almost awkwardly to the side. His usual brown eyes melt into a hazy, golden-brown as he perks in recognition. “Hey, Omi!” he calls. Sakusa immediately regrets staying behind. “Wanna hit some of my sets?”

“No,” Sakusa says, already slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading towards the gym doors. It’s considerably annoying how Atsumu, one of the most self-conscious and attention-seeking men, notices Sakusa, one of the most attention- _ hating _ men. People always regard Sakusa more like a shadow, a menacing silhouette hovering in the back of the room that sprays anyone who approaches him with disinfectant to scare them off.

“Wait, Omi-kun!” There are aggravatingly loud sounds of footsteps trailing behind Sakusa, and he adds  _ “#683. Atsumu walks too damn loudly” _ to his mental tally.

Fortunately for Atsumu (but unfortunately for him), Sakusa doesn’t have his handy disinfectant with him. He curses at himself. Why did he forget his one lifesaver  _ today _ ? He quickens his pace. 

“Omi~,” Atsumu drawls from behind. Sakusa can even hear Atsumu’s pout from behind him. “You always stay behind like me and Shou-kun and Bokkun. Why do ya wanna leave now?” 

Sakusa stops. The sound of his athletic shoes squeaks slightly as he slowly turns around. Hinata and Bokuto are at the back of the gym now, trying to beat each other’s vertical jump by smacking a spot on the basketball hoop higher than the other. Then there’s Atsumu, who is standing a few feet away with his annoyingly unruffled perfect hair, his hand over a stray volleyball. “Because you’re annoying,” Sakusa flatly says, and definitely doesn’t add “ _ #684. Atsumu’s hair stays perfect even if he sweats” _ to his list. 

“You’ve stayed all the other times, though,” Atsumu points out.

“You’re less annoying when you don’t talk to me.”  _ Or notice me. Like every other normal person in this world. _

“Please, Omi-Omi. Just a few tosses. Do ya wanna waste yer creepily flexible wrists?” he asks.

“Fine,” Sakusa snaps, avoiding Atsumu’s penetrating glance. And before the setter can walk any nearer, he adds, “Just don’t touch me. I’m afraid your stupidity could be contagious.” 

Atsumu smirks, knowing he won, like pretty much every other time, but he stays a safe distance away. This, at least, makes Sakusa grateful. “What if my stupidity’s contagious by air, huh? What then, Omi?” 

Sakusa immediately regrets being grateful for anything. “Please shut up.”

The team’s setter only grins stupidly at him as he saunters away. Sakusa reluctantly follows, dropping his bag off by the door again with a soft  _ whoosh _ . He delicately slips off his latex gloves and mask and throws the already bacteria-infected items away. Well, that is a slight waste. 

Atsumu shuffles to his rightful side next to the net. This time, Sakusa is standing on the court with him. It’s oddly personal, Sakusa thinks, even if he has stood there with Atsumu so many times before. 

Right before the ball is tossed to Atsumu, they share a look. To any outsiders, it may just be a simple passing glance, but Sakusa knows better. Atsumu’s mouth tilts up slightly and his eyes sparkle under the gym lights. Sakusa narrows his eyes in return. It’s a silent conversation.

He runs up to the net. The ball is quick, short, and close, but Sakusa easily jumps up and spikes the ball with a harsh flick of his right wrist. It spins furiously, but with immense control, as it slams onto the court below, producing a thundering  _ hiss. _

Sakusa lands adeptly on his feet, his eyes trained on the ball. It rebounds several times, its  _ pitter-patter _ echoing in the now completely silent gym. Even Bokuto, who didn’t notice Sakusa’s presence until now, is stunned by the sudden impact. Hinata is right beside Bokuto, his eyes wide but a huge, knowing grin plastered on his face. 

Atsumu is leaning over his shoulder, watching the ball as well, and suddenly, he’s running towards Sakusa. There are those golden-brown eyes again.

Sakusa instinctively wants to shrink away from Atsumu’s growing figure, but this time he’s rooted to his feet. There’s something irritating about Atsumu’s expression, but it’s a different kind of irritating, almost like it’s slightly… pleasant. 

“Omi-kun…” Atsumu says, stopping only a dangerously few inches away from Sakusa. He has that stupidly huge grin again on his face that pronounces his perfect teeth. “That was amazing.” The words are lathered in his silky yet sweet voice that irks Sakusa because he likes it way too much.

...Wait.

_ Oh. _

...Shit.

Of course. How come he didn’t notice earlier?

Sakusa stares at him. The List of All of the Annoying Things About Miya Atsumu starts growing exponentially in his mind.

_ #714. Atsumu has an annoyingly cute crooked mouth. _

_ #715. Atsumu has infuriatingly large, broad shoulders that complement his adorable mouth. _

_ #716. Atsumu somehow still looks good in his aggravatingly hideous piss-colored hair.  _

_ #717. Atsumu is too damn beautiful. _

Sakusa cringes and holds a hand against the front of his face, hiding the incoming blush on his cheeks. “...Whatever. It’s not like you haven’t seen my spikes so many times before,” he mumbles, staring flatly at the ground.

Thankfully, Atsumu isn’t able to read Sakusa’s mind and continues talking like nothing is wrong. “Let’s do it again!” 

“Fine,” Sakusa mutters and drags himself back to his starting position.

That night, Sakusa and Atsumu did a grand total of twenty-three consecutive spikes, leaving Atsumu a gasping, sweaty mess and Sakusa slightly panting and disheveled. Every spike produced the same effect, and Sakusa probably counted more than fifty new items to add to his ever-growing list. 

It’s worthless, really, to try to gain attention from the one person who doesn’t want any. Atsumu is a cocky, smug bastard who basks in popularity, but he’s also the only one who has picked Sakusa to pay any attention to. It’s like he has some kind of unfair power over Sakusa. It is equally as infuriating as it is endearing, Sakusa realizes. That in itself is annoying.

He resentfully adds the last point to his list.

\---

“Hey, Kiyoomi! What’s up?” Komori greets.

Sakusa perches on the edge of his bed, trying his best not to crease the covers that he spent way too long for his liking to smooth. Water gently drips down the side of his face as he rubs it away. He just took a shower, which went by like a blur of emotions mixed with the intensity of the hot water pounding down his face and hair. And suddenly, he finds himself with his phone on a call with his cousin. 

“Hi, Komori-san,” he says without any emotion.

There’s silence on the other side. Then, after a few seconds, Komori asks, “So, why did you call me?”

Sakusa stares blankly at the white, carpeted floor of his apartment. In truth, he really has no idea why he’s calling Komori. “Uh.” The seconds tick by. “Today, I realized-” 

“You realized that you’re in love with Miya Atsumu, right?”

Sakusa chokes. “What.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he laughs. “Every time you call me, you complain about Atsumu. It’s always Miya this, Miya that. You tell me the most ridiculous things you’ve noticed about him, from his exact vision level to what kind of socks he wears! How could you  _ just _ realize that your irritation is just hiding your infatuation with-”

“You are the worst cousin ever. Goodnight, Komori,” he abruptly cuts, and before Komori can respond, he hangs up. 

Well, this is just great. So that’s why he found himself calling his cousin, because Komori already knew. His own body betrayed his emotions. 

_ An infatuation with Miya Atsumu? _ He thinks. It’s ridiculous by itself. Someone? Attracted with  _ Miya Atsumu _ , of all people? Sakusa can’t even begin to fathom himself. 

Yet he himself apparently fits in the very category he had just deemed absurd. 

Well, this is annoying. And now Sakusa wants to do something about it.

\---

Half an hour later, Sakusa finds himself fully dressed and standing in his mother’s flower shop. He doesn’t come here often. He never really has a reason to. Until now, apparently. 

The place is beautiful. Dozens of different types of flowers line the wooden shelves, and some hang, with their leaves dangling overhead next to the artificial lights. There’s a small water fountain lying in the middle of the shop that is decorated with even more types of flowers set on its ledges and on top of the tiles surrounding the fountain. Sakusa’s mother is standing behind one of the shelves, tending to the petunias. Her long, black hair falls in front of her ears as she looks up when she spots Sakusa.

“Hi, mom,” Sakusa greets, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his bright, neon-yellow Itachiyama jacket. Atsumu always points out that he never wears anything other than that jacket, to which Sakusa always curtly responds that it was pretty much the only jacket that he likes. He mildly smirks behind his mask at the memory.

Wait. 

Of course, there goes Atsumu popping up in Sakusa’s head again. He adds that to his list.

His mother nods in response, a warm smile forming on her lips, and goes back tending to her flowers. 

Sakusa looks around again and wonders what a particular 183.6 cm golden-yellow-haired setter would like. Wandering throughout the store, he finally spots a bouquet of small, yellow petal flowers with hints of orange near the middle. 

“What are these called?” he asks, pointing to the flowers.

His mother looks up again and a smile returns on her lips. “Ah, those! Those are yellow primroses. They symbolize kindness and eternal youth.” She beams. “Are you looking for a gift for a special person?”

“No,” Sakusa quickly says, even if that’s exactly what he’s here for. “Thank you,” he adds. 

He considers the flowers a little bit more. They are pretty, he decides, and they vaguely remind him of a certain hair color. 

“Mom,” he calls again. “How much for these?”

“No, no. Take them free of charge as a gift from me.” She has a wistful expression on her face now, and her old eyes sparkle. Sakusa briefly remembers a story that his mother had once told him, about how his father had given her yellow flowers right before his father had proposed. 

Sakusa doesn’t really want to think about what this might mean in his case.

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” He grabs a red satin ribbon on one of the countertops and neatly wraps the flowers together. Satisfied, he nods his mother goodbye and walks back out of the flower shop, wondering if his sanity has been slowly decreasing ever since he met Atsumu.

\---

“Miya.”

They’re in the middle of afternoon practice, and Atsumu has just strode to the sidelines, where his water bottle is set. He’s panting, the tips of his hair drooping in sweat, and he leans back to chug water down. At the mention of his name, he glances in the corner of his eye to the source of the sound.

Sakusa’s standing only a few feet away, in a similar unkempt state, making an expression that he probably does not want to see himself. 

Atsumu lowers his water bottle to wipe some of the excess water mixed with the sweat off his mouth and turns towards Sakusa. “Hey, Omi-kun! What’re you-” He stops and gawks at what Sakusa is holding. 

“I killed some things that reminded me of your ugly ass hair so you could watch them decay,” Sakusa deadpans, holding out the latest victims he murdered the night before.

Atsumu stares at him. “Those are flowers.” 

“Yeah.”

Atsumu’s mouth falls open. 

Sakusa only blinks back at him, expectantly.

Slowly, the team’s setter closes the distance between them, still shocked. For a second, he hesitates, but then curls his fingers around the flowers, his fingers brushing against Sakusa’s briefly. Sakusa tries not to flinch.

“Hey Tsum-Tsum, are you ready to- Woah!” Bokuto stops in front of the pair and he breaks out into a huge grin. “Are we witnessing a lovey-dovey confession from Kiyoomi-kun here?”

“Shut up-” Sakusa wants to say before Hinata accidentally rams face-first into Bokuto’s broad back.

“Ackt!” Hinata yells. “Sorry, Bokuto-san! I didn’t- Oh!” His eyes grow wide at the sight of Sakusa and he slowly backs away. “Am I, uh, intruding something? I’m sorry, I’ll leave…” 

It may just have been Sakusa’s imagination, but a slight blush creeps onto Atsumu’s face. He stares at the yellow primrose flowers in his hands. Suddenly, he looks up and the tips of his mouth tilt into a smirk. “Bokkun’s right, are ya confessing to me, Omi-kun?”

“Fuck no,” Sakusa spits, abruptly retracting his outstretched arm, very much aware of how intense his blush is that contradicts his very words. 

Their captain’s loud shouts shatter Sakusa from his thoughts. “Bokuto! Atsumu! Sakusa!” Meian calls from across the gym. “Break time is over! Let’s practice six-on-six now.”

The MSBY Black Jackals all shout in agreement and crowd in the front of the gym where Meian is standing. Stiffly and still recovering from his blush, Sakusa looks over his shoulder, where Atsumu is still staring at the blank space where he was standing. Atsumu’s lips move briefly like he is murmuring something, and then delicately drops off the bouquet of flowers on top of his bag before joining the rest of the group. 

Sakusa presses his lips together and pointedly ignores the heat radiating from Atsumu’s skin a few yards away. So it was probably a bad choice to confess in the middle of practice. Why did he even think of that? He really is getting stupider by just existing at the same time as Atsumu. 

At least, that is what Sakusa tells himself as his excuse for stepping out of the gym right on Atsumu’s tail. 

Practice is over. Sakusa and Atsumu have practiced ferociously like nothing happened, but Sakusa sometimes finds his gaze lingering on Atsumu for more than a split-second and feels his breath quicken. Has he always been this disgustingly lovesick? 

Sakusa catches up with Atsumu, who doesn’t give him a passing glance, and the two of them walk side by side deeper into the cold night. Wordlessly, Sakusa shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. Atsumu is silent too, and lets out a puff of breath, watching as the cool air condenses his breath into fog. 

Atsumu is the first person to break the silence. “Omi-kun…” The word comes out hushed and breathy, as if his heart is racing as fast as Sakusa’s. “Are ya… stalkin’ me?”

Sakusa gives him a flat look. “I’m literally walking right next to you.” 

“Yea, but…” Atsumu scratches the back of his head. “Yer being oddly quiet. Stalkers are all quiet and mysterious and stuff. You may as well be a stalker, Omi.” 

A streetlight passes overhead as they walk down the empty road. Sakusa scrunches his nose and mutters under his breath, “Why do I like you.” Then, louder, he says, “That’s not how it works. I’m always quiet. Except for all the times that you make me talk.” 

Atsumu sighs. “Jeez, Omi. Just tryin’ to make conversation- Wait, what did ya say?”

“I said that you are an annoying idiot that makes my life worse by breathing.”

Atsumu is staring at Sakusa now. “No, no. You said-” He faces forward, scrunches inward, and produces the nastiest scowl, saying in a deep voice, “Why do I like you.” He stands upright again and turns towards Sakusa, a deep smirk sprawled all over his face. “That’s what ya said! You said ya liked me!”

Sakusa tries not to snort at Atsumu’s ridiculous impersonation. “No, I didn’t.” 

“Yea ya did!” Atsumu practically sings, dancing as he walks. “Yea ya did! Yea ya did! You said ya liked  _ me _ !” 

He sighs. “What an oversized baby I’m talking to.” 

The setter ignores him as he prances about, but then he stops, and lowers his hands. “Wait, but do ya? Like me?” His voice is suddenly soft. 

Sakusa presses his lips together and stares at him. Atsumu is gazing back, expectantly. After a few seconds of just staring, Sakusa finally says in the most monotonous tone ever, “Let me hold your hand.”

A blush flourishes on Atsumu’s cheek as he steps back, his mouth wide open. “Wh-what?”

“You know what, forget it,” Sakusa immediately says, turning away from him to walk away. 

“W-wait no!” Atsumu yells after him and rushes to catch up. 

Sakusa stops and turns around. After a few seconds of just staring, he holds out his left hand. There’s no point in backing out now. “Well?”

Atsumu gawks at the outstretched hand like it’s some kind of virus. “...Are you sure?”

“Am I ever not sure?”

Slowly, Atsumu reaches out as well. But right before his fingertips brush Sakusa’s, he hesitates and looks up, a smirk drawing across his lips. “Omi-Omi, are ya askin’ me to be yer boyfriend?”

“Whatever,” Sakusa snaps.

“Yes!” Atsumu half-shouts, still not taking Sakusa’s hand in his own. “I’ll be yer boyfriend!” 

Sakusa closes his eyes and takes several short, angry breaths. “Just shut the fuck up and hold my hand.”

Atsumu laughs and finally slips his hand into Sakusa’s. It’s firm yet warm, Sakusa notices, and makes his heartbeat quicken. 

“When I go home, I’m spending thirty minutes scrubbing all of the bacteria off my hand,” Sakusa comments to hide the incoming blush on his face. 

Atsumu smiles at that and squeezes Sakusa’s hand. “Sure, Omi,” he says, softly. “Whatever ya say.”

Sakusa pointedly evades his glance and stares at the ground underneath them.

“Oh, and Omi?” Atsumu says after a few blissful moments.

“Hm.”

He grins at Sakusa. “Thanks for the flowers.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi doesn’t know when it started. 

Miya Atsumu has always been annoying, intentionally or unintentionally. It’s part of who he is, along with his irritatingly handsome face and annoyingly cute Kansai dialect accent and how he notices Sakusa when no one else does. So, perhaps Sakusa has always observed everything there is to know about Atsumu.

He really does love everything about Miya Atsumu, Sakusa decides.

And he adds that to the list.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired/based on [this tweet](https://twitter.com/QuotesHaikyuu/status/1361502845187485698)!


End file.
